


Distractions

by NilesDaughter



Series: Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle [32]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Krem hates his nicknames, Workout Fanservice Trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 18:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NilesDaughter/pseuds/NilesDaughter
Summary: When Sulahn proposes a sparring match against Bull, Krem finds himself a little too invested.





	Distractions

“Hey, Bull?”

“Yeah, Boss?”

Sulahn offered the Qunari man her most brilliant grin. “Care to train with me?”

He quirked a brow. “You sure, Boss? I’m kind of a heavy hitter, even if it’s just during practice.”

“That’s precisely why I’m asking. I need the agility practice.”

“…Are you calling me slow?”

“I said no such thing,” she replied innocently, grin widening.

The Iron Bull huffed a little. “Y’know, that sounds like a challenge. I accept.” As he spoke, he eased himself out his usual chair in the Herald’s Rest.

“I’ll go get my practice sticks,” Sulahn practically sang, and ran out of the tavern.

* * *

“Hey, Crème De La Crème!”

Krem tried–and failed–to stifle a groan. Ever since The Iron Bull had called him that in front of the other Chargers, the unfortunate nickname had stuck, much to the Tevene’s chagrin. Unable to keep the annoyance out of his expression, he turned to face Dalish.

“Yes?”

She grinned. “You should head up to the training grounds.”

“Does Chief need me or something?”

“Something like that,” she laughed.

Shooting her a suspicious look, he hesitantly slid off the fence he had been perched on. After she made an insistent shooing gesture at him, he sighed and slightly quickened his pace. Within a handful of minutes, he crested the stairs that connected the lowest courtyard to the middle one. Ahead of him, in the space that had been utilized as the training grounds for the Inquisition forces, he noticed a crowd of scouts and soldiers. His curiosity piqued, Krem made his way towards them. As he approached, a collective cheer rose from the crowd. Even more curious, he began to weave through the crowd, murmuring apologies in his wake as he jostled people.

Once Krem finally broke through to the front of the crowd, he stopped short in his tracks.

In the center of the loose ring the Inquisition had formed was The Iron Bull and the Inquisitor herself. Bull had a wooden shield strapped to one arm, and had a dulled practice blade in the opposite hand. Across from him, Sulahn twirled two long, sturdy sticks. Both were breathing heavily as they watched the other, and Krem’s gaze was inevitably drawn to the Inquisitor.

Her snowy tresses had been pulled up into a messy updo. A few strands now fell loose, framing her narrow face, the sweat dripping from the ends also making her curls more pronounced. She had stripped off her outer layers, and was now only in her leathers and a short, sleeveless tunic that bared her scarred arms. He was transfixed by the sight of her, and was once again overwhelmed by how beautiful she was. Overjoyed by how lucky he was.

She twirled her sticks again, and glanced his way. Violet eyes met brown, and she grinned a little before giving him a wink.

Krem felt his cheeks heat up just as movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The Iron Bull, noticing that the Inquisitor had allowed herself a moment of distraction, charged forward, aiming to bash her with the shield.

At the last second, Sulahn somersaulted out of the way, rolling in the grass a couple times before she sprang back up to her feet. She spun to face Bull, laughing a little as she went. It was like watching a dance, the way she moved, darting about the battlefield.

It was mesmerizing.

Eventually, the sparring match drew to a close, Sulahn trying to trip Bull but finding herself pulled down alongside him.

As the two were thrown to the ground, the Inquisitor gasped out, “Draw?”

“Draw,” The Iron Bull replied with a laugh and a groan.

The crowd finally began to disperse and Krem approached them. He reached Sulahn first, and held out a hand to help her to her feet. Back on her feet, she leaned over to kiss his cheek.

“Enjoy the show?” she teased.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” he blurt out.

Sulahn laughed and then went over to help The Iron Bull stand up. “Thanks for sparring with me.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, Boss.” He glanced over at Krem and chuckled. “Time for me to get a drink. Give you and Crème Brûlée some time to yourselves.”

“Chief…” Krem groaned.

He laughed once, clapped his lieutenant on the shoulder, and headed towards the Herald’s Rest.

Krem sighed and turned back to the Inquisitor, only to be met with one of the widest grins he’d ever seen on her face. His heart sank as he realized that the one of the Maker-damned nicknames the Chargers had given him was now revealed to her.

“I-it’s j-just a nickname the Chief has. I-it’s really stupid, so if you could please…just…pretend this never happened?”

“Why would I ever want to do that? Crème Brûlée has a nice ring to it.”

Krem groaned. He would never be able to escape it now.


End file.
